


I Wanna Come Over

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-21
Updated: 2006-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-02 14:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12728460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack POV. Daniel invites Jack to come on over to his world.





	I Wanna Come Over

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

Shit, what a cold, dark place. I walk the perimeter of camp just to keep my blood flowing, my knitted skull cap pulled down over my forehead and ears, the fur-lined hood of my winter parka up over my head. I have arctic survival gloves on, one hand clutching the barrel of my P90, suspended on its sling around my neck, and the other holding a huge flashlight. I've got long thermal lined pants on over my BDU's and my feet are stuck into the heaviest, warmest boots the SGC supplies. And still I'm fucking freezing. 

It occurs to me, not for the first time, that I'm not quite sure who or what I'm watching out for on my patrol. What the hell kind of enemy would be out on a night like this, in this god-forsaken place? It's too damned cold to think, much less attack anyone. I wonder for the umpteenth time if I could feel my hands to fire my gun if I had to. 

As I complete the latest tour around the outside edge of our camp, I sneak a look at my watch. Ten more minutes, and I can go wake up Teal'c and let him take over. One more trip around should do it. I set about putting one foot in front of the other, letting my mind wander.

Where it wanders to, because that's its favorite place to go when let loose, is to Daniel. My best friend. My archaeologist. My linguist. My teammate. My... My... No. Not that. Not ever that. I force my mind into grousing mode. Grousing it knows about. Grousing it can do.

"No," I had said at the briefing about this planet. "No. We can go to P3X-987 when it's summer there. We don't have to go when it's so cold, right? Right, Carter? Right, Daniel? Right, General Hammond? Right?" No. Not right. There is no fucking summer in this place. It's June back in Cheyenne Mountain. On god-awful P3X whatever, it's perpetual winter.

I stomp around the perimeter, letting my mind go into full grousing mode. Maybe the steam coming out of my ears will warm me up. Shit. Fucking cold. I can't feel my face anymore. I think my lips are frozen together. Two hours I've had watch, and there's five minutes to go.

When I come to Teal'c and Carter's tent, I fumble with the Velcro fasteners to open the flap and duck inside, letting the flap close behind me. It's marginally warmer in there. In the bright beam of my flashlight, I can see that Carter's sleeping on the left, and T's on the right. 

I reach out with the toe of my right boot and give his foot a little nudge to start waking him up. "T!" I hiss. "Wake up!" 

Good old T. He sits up right away. "I am up, O'Neill," he rumbles. 

I'm too tall to stand up straight in the small tent, so I hunker down and sit on my heels, cradling my gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. "Real cold out there, T. Bundle up," I say quietly. 

Carter never moves. All I can see of her is the very top of her blond head, sticking out of her sleeping bag. She's dead to the world, like I want to be in about five more minutes. 

I watch T as he moves out from the warmth of his sleeping bag. He starts to shove his outer garments inside the sleeping bag to briefly warm them before he begins to pull them on. Finally he comes to his feet, bent over at the waist because of the low ceiling. As I watch him shove his feet into his size fourteen boots and grab for his jacket, I believe he's really awake and ready to take watch. 

I straighten up and turn to leave the tent. "Carter's up next," I tell him quietly. "So get her up when it's time, okay?" I receive another rumble for an answer. T knows the drill.

I leave his tent and try not to sprint to ours. I am desperate to get warmed up. Our tent is only about ten steps away. I use the flashlight to find the fastenings and open them with fumbling fingers, trying to keep the light focused and losing control over it in my haste to get inside. "Shit," I mumble under my breath.

Finally inside, I turn around to make sure the flap is as tightly closed as I can make it. The temperature in this godforsaken planet has dropped about thirty degrees since its weak, pale sun set hours before. It's about twenty degrees in the tent. I can see my breath. Daniel has zipped our two sleeping bags together. I am damned grateful he has had the foresight to remember to do it. Whenever we find ourselves sleeping in a cold place, it's been our custom to share our body heat. 

I put my flashlight down so the beam is pointed straight up, tear the P90 off from around my neck, and start struggling out of my heavy gloves and coat. My boots, the overalls, and all my outer clothing are next. I throw all the stuff in the corner and make a dive for our sleeping bag, wearing only my tee shirt, boxers, and socks. 

Given how cold it is, it's weird to go to bed wearing so little clothing, but our survival training has taught us that it's for the best. We have warm arctic-rated sleeping bags, and wearing too many clothes just makes you colder, by preventing your body heat from getting into the fiber of the sleeping bag lining.

I slide under the covers and reach for the flashlight. I extinguish it and put it where I can get a hold of it in a hurry if I need to, right next to my P90. I reach down, slip my socks off, and throw them in the general direction of my clothing pile.

With a sigh, I stretch out next to Daniel, glad for his solid presence. I edge over towards him and lie on my side, turning my face into the warmth by his shoulder so maybe I won't have to breathe the ice cold air inside our tent. We're on an air mattress, but still the ground is hard. As always, it feels damned good to be horizontal and the darkness is comforting on my tired eyes. 

I attempt to pull the sleeping bag over my head, but Daniel and I are too tall and it barely makes it up to my eyes. I bend my legs up and hunker down inside the bag a bit more, making myself shorter. Now my nose is about at the level of Daniel's collarbone. I make an effort not to shiver. 

I can't see him anymore in the dark, but I know that Daniel is facing me, his hands curled up under his chin. The heat radiates off him in waves, warming me. Maybe, I think, I will live. It had felt like touch and go there for a while. 

"Jack?"

"Yeah, it's me," I tell him quietly. "Go back to sleep."

"You're so cold," he whispers. Apparently waves of cold are washing back at him.

"No shit," I chuckle. "It's an ice box in this god-awful place. Tell me again why we're here." I really don't want him to tell me, but of course he does anyway.

"Abandoned village," he mumbles. "Church yard with gravestone thingies. Maybe gold in them thar hills," he tries to joke. He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, knowing how stupid all that sounds. All the friggin' "gold" in the world isn't worth staying overnight here. Even Daniel can see that. 

"Whatever the fuck is here to be found, we're going to find it by sundown tomorrow, Danny. I'm ordering us home before another night gets here. I cannot take it."

He snakes an arm around my waist and scooches over a couple of inches to get us closer. "Get over here," he orders. "You're fucking freezing. I cannot take THAT."

We both chortle as I hitch over a little nearer to him. Yes, sir, Daniel, sir, I am happily ensconced closer to you now. I also have a hard on that will be damned embarrassing if you find out about it. God willing, you won't ever know. I jam both my hands between my thighs, ostensibly to warm up my fingers, but really hoping to relieve the pressure down there somehow. It's REAL warm between my legs anyway. Shit. 

We have shared a sleeping bag many times, but this cuddling is a first. Daniel's warm arm around me feels like an electric blanket. I wriggle a little closer to him.

"Stick your arm around me," he suggests. I pull one hand out from between my thighs and gingerly move it around his waist. I can feel his firm muscles under his tee shirt. He's big and warm, smooth and compact. 

Suddenly he rears up a bit and slides his other arm under my head, pulling my face over onto his shoulder. "God, your nose is cold," he whispers as I bury it in his neck. I've never had my face in his neck before. He smells like sweat and soap and that wonderful- smelling aftershave he puts on sometimes. And coffee. And skin. He smells like skin. I like the way he smells. My hard on is not exactly going away. I sigh in contentment, even as one part of my brain is wondering how I'm going to deal with what's happening.

I love him. I am IN love with him. I want him, always, badly, achingly. I have wanted him for months. Years. Almost since I first laid eyes on him. I have never wanted any man before, ever, so I am clueless about what to do to make things right between us. I have, therefore, tried my damnedest to do nothing. 

I have never had the balls to tell Daniel Jackson that he rocks my world. All these years, he's been my best friend. He's died, he's come back to life, he's ascended, he's descended. Shit, I never know where Daniel is going to be next. He drives me fucking crazy. He is the most maddening, mouthy, independent, bloody-minded, fascinating person I have ever known. And all I've known, for what feels like forever, is that where I want him to be is with me. Like this. Always. 

"Danny?" I whisper.

He yawns in my ear. "Yeah?" He sounds maddeningly nonchalant.

I cannot speak. I have no spit in my mouth. 

He actually tightens his hold around me and does a little bit of delicious wriggling of his own. "What's the matter, Jack?" he asks softly when I don't answer him. He's not making fun of me. His tone is kind, gentle. A gentleman, my friend Daniel. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Well, now, see, I can't answer that one, can I? Not honestly. Uncomfortable? More like so friggin' horny and desperate, I have no functioning brain cells left. Is that uncomfortable? Well, if so, I know how to get comfortable, but I can't go there, so I don't answer him. No brain cells, y'see, and I cannot speak. But my nose is getting warm now. God, he feels good. 

He sighs, knowing I'm deliberately not answering him again. He pushes his upper leg between my thighs, causing my hand that had been jammed in there to fall towards him. My erection is lying along his thigh now, bold as brass and as big as half a house. No way is he not feeling that. And my dislodged hand? It slid over and seems to be cradling another big erection, over on his side of the sleeping bag. Different areas of my brain are sending flash SOS messages to each other in a desperate attempt to play catch up with the events of the last few moments.

I freeze. Couldn't speak before. Now I can't breathe either. Daniel, on the other hand, seems perfectly relaxed, except for that enormous hard on I seem to have next to my palm. He's as big there as the rest of him is. And hot as a live coal. My hands are not cold anymore. Neither is my nose, since it's part of my face, which feels like it's on fire. I should back off now, give him space, and maybe start breathing again. Maybe.

Finally my body demands air and I gasp against Daniel's sweet neck. 

He chuckles. The son of a bitch is laughing! I am dying of mortification here, and he is laughing.

"Shocked, Jack?" He murmurs into my ear in a matter of fact voice. "You've been flirting with me for weeks. Ever since Vis Uban. I called you Jim on purpose, you know. And you've been flirting." No accusation in his voice, he sounds very ho-hum, like this is some kind of routine epiphany we're having.

"Have not!" I am gasping again. "I don't flirt," I insist. This is me he's talking to. Mister Cool. Colonel Do-Nothing-and-Daniel- Won't-Ever-Notice-Something's-Up O'Neill. I try to move away from him, but he's holding me close in his arms. And did I already say how good he feels?

"Gonna kiss you now, Jack," he informs me in a soft voice. "Gonna like it." He's sliding his warm hand around the back of my neck as he speaks, and then starts to haul me close. "Let's see if you do too, okay? You let me know." 

I just have time to say, "Oh, GOD-" and his lips are on mine. They are warm and pliant and gentle. He's not forcing me, not using his tongue. My eyes have snapped wide open but there is not one scrap of light in the tent, so I close them again and give myself over to the warmth, the taste, the sensation of my best friend kissing me. I've kissed many people in my life, but they were all female. And these lips belong to someone who is very definitely male. He's big and muscled and painfully erect, and I can feel the stubble around his soft mouth as he kisses me. 

He's running his lips back and forth over mine, seeking, inquisitive, searching, like a benediction, like an invitation, like a peace offering, like a flutter of soft wings against my face. He loves me. Somehow, he conveys that in his kiss. 

The knowledge of that love hits me in the pit of my stomach and this time I do pull back. I'm gasping again, panting through my mouth. I'm sweating. And my traitorous hand has a tight grasp on his erection now. I guess he takes that as a green light, because before I know it, his hand is on my crotch too. 

With a groaned, "Daniel!" I dive for his lips again. This time, it's my idea, and this time, my tongue is in his mouth. 

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me. 

As I roll over on top of him, grinding our groins together, the litany of his love and the feeling of his beautiful body writhing under me fills my mind, and all coherent thought is lost.

* * *

In the morning, we don't speak of it. In fact, we don't speak. Daniel looks at me once or twice, but I don't meet his eyes. 

We made love last night. It was awkward and messy, and we never had our clothes off. We came in our shorts like two teenagers making out in the back seat of a car. I hadn't come that hard since I was about seventeen. The only reason Teal'c didn't hear me when I came was that my yell went straight into Daniel's open mouth and down his throat. A few seconds later, Daniel's orgasmic groans were muffled behind the palm of my hand, where I held it over his mouth, hissing "Quietly!" in his ear as he jerked against me and moaned as he came. Shit, damn, hell. But he loves me. And I love him. And now I can't look him in the eye.

Breakfast is a silent affair, eaten in the dim light of what passes for a sun in this place. MRE's are not the greatest. But there's coffee, so black it stands up in our mugs like a living thing. It scalds my tongue and throat, hurting me, and I'm glad to feel the pain. My mind is going in about ten directions at once and I search desperately to get back into control. 

"Today is it," I announce to the three members of my team, watching my breath condense in the freezing air. "We're not spending another night in this godforsaken cold place."

"But, Sir," Carter interrupts. I can see her opening her mouth to protest. She's brought about eleven kinds of scientific doohickeys with her to do experiments on the low radiation levels on the planet, the seismic activity, some other stuff I didn't follow. 

"There's no radiation here because there's no damned sun, Carter," I inform her. "And how there can be seismic activity in a place that's too cold for volcanoes is beyond me." 

As she tries to interrupt me again I hold up one gloved finger. "Uh! Uh!" I warn. "Home this afternoon at 1600 sharp. I cannot take any more of this place. We can come back to play another day. Or they can send another team. Decision made." I shake my head in warning for her not to say another word. She fixes me with a blue-eyed glare, not pleased, but she is silent.

My eyes go to Daniel and to Teal'c, both of whom are standing quietly and not objecting. "No more objections? Good. Let's get busy. Daniel, go do what you have to do. Carter, get done what you can. I'll take responsibility to explain to the General why both of you couldn't do everything you'd planned, so prioritize. The two of you stay in sight of each other, radios on, okay? T, you're with me." I make a shooing motion with one hand to send Daniel and Carter off to do their thing, together and separately. 

Teal'c stands tall, looking down his nose at me, a tiny smile playing at the sides of his mouth. He knows something is up. He knows me so well. I have never really understood Daniel, or he me, but T and I? We're cut from the same cloth. Sewn up a little differently maybe, but at the backbone, we're brothers.

I look over at him. "It's just too cold, T," I whine with a grin. "Come on, let's start packing up camp and then we can go watch Daniel and Carter work."

"As you wish, O'Neill," he announces graciously. We go to start taking down the tents and get our gear organized, something we could do in our sleep. It gives me a lot of time to think. Way too much time.

* * *

It's a week later, and Daniel and I still haven't talked about it. I'm waiting for him to corner me and bring it up. He undoubtedly is waiting for me to corner him and bring it up. And I guess basically we're both cowards. Well, I am anyway. After all, it was Daniel who found the guts to lay one on me in that icebox of a tent that night. 

We had a couple of down days when we got back, during which I basically hid out at home and never answered the phone without checking the caller ID first. Then we had a couple of days on base, which I used to catch up on the interminable paperwork with which I am always getting behind. Daniel stuck to his office, head down, working, working, working. Carter played with her doohickeys, I guess. And T escaped off world, working with the new recruits at the alpha site. 

SG-1 went out again on day five; this time to a place I dubbed "Maui in Space." There was a white sand beach a short three-klick walk from the gate that went on as far as the eye could see in both directions. Gentle waves lapped the shore of a sea that was an odd pearly pink color. The sky was kind of pinkish too. Weird place, but warm. Carter and Daniel had a wonderful time playing with yet another set of doohickeys.

At least I could hover and get in the way and "help" wearing shorts and a sleeveless tee and sunglasses. My kind of world, P4X-whatever the fuck it was. Yup. 

But Daniel and I? We joked and bantered and exchanged insults like always, but we didn't really talk, certainly not about The Subject. I did spend a lot of time thinking. My mind was almost burned out with thinking, negotiating with myself, reorganizing, computing. I was worn out with it. 

I'm not so clueless that I couldn't feel Daniel's eyes on me. He watched me. Probably wondering about me, wanting me, thinking, just like I was doing. The both of us were basically scared of this new "us," I guess. Meanwhile, his smile was as bright and happy as I'd ever seen it. Sometimes he cut me a break when we "discussed" things, letting me win our verbal sparring contests once in a while. Occasionally, he didn't even make the effort to have the last word. And all I could seem to do was think some more.

The three nights we spent on Maui in Space found all four members of SG-1 sleeping out under the stars, on the beach, separated by a lot of open room. No opportunities for snuggling, cuddling, kissing, or talk. None.

When we get back home, we are given three days downtime. By the time we get through the usual debriefing and medical checks, and I make my way to the SG-1 locker room, Daniel has booked. I check with the guard at the gate, and am told that he is long gone. I missed him by a half hour.

I stride to my truck, climb in, and shove it in gear to get myself the hell away from the Mountain. It's Saturday night and like the old song says, "I ain't got nobody". I haven't had anybody for so long, I can't remember what it's even like any more. Except for that encounter in the freezer tent with Daniel, no one has touched me in something like four years. Five? Who the hell knows anymore, I sure don't. 

Except I do have someone. I have my friend Daniel. And, miracle of miracles, he loves me. We can't talk about it, for cryin' out loud, but he loves me. I just know it. And I love him, and figure he must know that, too. 

I don't believe I've ever felt as ill equipped to ask someone for a date in my life, but if I want to stop being alone, if I want to wake up with someone in the morning, and if I want to matter to someone, I need to take this situation in hand. I could turn to stone waiting for Doctor Jackson to make a second move. He is a stubborn son of a bitch, even worse than me. I smile, thinking about him, the son of a bitch I love. 

Impulsively, I stop at Peak Wine and Liquor, out on North Academy Boulevard, on the way home. I sit in the truck for close to ten minutes, thinking, wearing out a few more brain cells. Finally, I slip out of the truck and go inside. I snag a clerk to help me, and ten minutes later, I'm on my way home, one bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon heavier and 85 dollars lighter. The love of my life is worth it. Hell, I'll even drink the god-awful stuff with him, if he'll let me.

I know how to do romance. I can do gentleman. I can hold doors open and say the right things, sort of, and bring nice gifts at appropriate times. I can sit through movies I hate, make dinner reservations at nice restaurants when I'd rather eat pizza, and buy theater tickets when I'd rather go to a hockey game. Of course, I've never done or been any of those things for another guy before, but this isn't just any guy. I smile to myself. This is my Daniel. 

Funny how one encounter in a weird freezer with your best friend can turn your whole world upside down. I am coming over to the gay side, whatever the hell that means. I am coming over to Daniel's side. And he doesn't know it yet, but I am coming over to his house. Very soon.

* * *

At home, I shower, shave, brush my teeth, and change into something decent. Nothing fancy, I don't want to scare him. My best black jeans, my best casual black shoes, my best white tee, and my new brown suede sport coat will have to do. 

I look at myself in the mirror over the dresser in my bedroom. I run my hands over my smoothly shaven face, and put on a small dab of cologne, nothing offensive. I really hope it's not something that will make Daniel sneeze. 

I am so nervous, I feel like the long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs that my grandmother back in Minnesota used to joke about. I wince, thinking about Grandma O'Neill. 'Sorry, Nana, your beloved only grandson is looking for a date with a guy', I think to myself. 

I look at myself in the mirror again, wondering not for the first time just who I am now. I know what I've been, and I feel certain that belonging to one Daniel Jackson will certainly be an improvement on that old me. And honestly? I'm really not sorry about anything, because maybe for the first time in a long time, Daniel and I can grab onto some happiness. I feel like we both deserve it. 

I go out to my kitchen where the wine is sitting on the table in the fancy presentation bag that I purchased at the wine shop. My gift for Daniel looks like a million bucks. Only the best for the best. 

I pick up the phone and dial Daniel's number at the loft. After five rings, his answering machine comes on. I hang up. I sit and think. Doing a lot of that these days. Thinking.

I can feel my heartbeat thud in my ears as I dial Daniel's cell. He answers on the second ring. "'Lo?"

For a split second, I have the almost irrepressible urge to hang up on him. Thank God, I don't. "Daniel?" My voice is squeaking, and I cringe. Mickey Mouse has nothing on me.

"Hey! Jack. What's up?" At least he recognized my voice, squeak and all.

Why the hell does he sound so cheery? "Um. Nothing's up. Where are you?"

After a short pause, he says, "Um. Why do you wanna know?" Like it's some big secret where he is, for cryin' out loud.

I take a deep breath. "Um, I just thought it would be good to. Ah. Ah, talk. Tonight. If. If you can. Iwannacomeover." The last sentence comes out as all one word.

Another pause. "Oh. Talk?" he says stupidly. For a smart guy, sometimes he doesn't sound smart. I suppose, neither do I.

"Yeah. You know. Move your mouth. Make sounds in your throat. English with me, I can't speak anything else." I take a breath. "Not like you," I add lamely. 

He actually laughs, God bless him, doing the cheery thing again. "I'm in my car. I took a drive," he tells me. "I can be back home in a few minutes. Give me a while to shower and change, okay? Wanna come over in an hour or so?"

I am limp with relief. I wipe at my forehead with one hand, not surprised to find droplets of sweat standing on my brow. 

"Oh," I breathe at him. "Daniel." I swallow, trying to find some spit. My mouth is terribly dry all of a sudden, and I realize I'm having some kind of anxiety attack. "T-that'd be f-fine," I stutter, sounding stupid even to my own ears. "See you then."

"I'll leave the door unlocked, Jack, just come in when you get there," he says to me breezily, and hangs up without saying good-bye.

I continue to hold the phone to my ear, knowing he's long gone, but, "Okay," I tell the phone, "See you soon." Finally I put two and two together and actually come up with four. 'He's gone, you idiot,' I think. I switch off the phone and lay it on my kitchen table with a thunk. My hands are trembling. The palms are sweating.

An hour. I can't be there for an hour, and it's a ten-minute trip to Daniel's. Suddenly I realize I have to go to the bathroom, and head down the hall. I haven't been this nervous since junior high.

* * *

After sitting in my truck out in the street outside Daniel's building for close to a half hour, I finally deem it late enough to make an appearance. I take a big, deep breath, grab the wine gift bag, and slide out of the truck, making sure my keys are in my pocket before I slam the locked door shut behind me. Now that I'm here, I am anxious to get face to face with Daniel. I have to pee again, too. I can't believe it. 

Too impatient to wait for the elevator, I take the stairs and jog up the three flights, glad he doesn't live on the eighth floor anymore like he used to. Bursting through the door onto his floor like someone is chasing me, I make an effort to slow down, catch my breath and try to stop sweating. The suede coat is a bit warm for the late June night, but I think to myself that it's mostly nerves that are popping out all over me under my clothes. 

I go to his door, give a couple of sharp knocks, and walk in, like he'd told me I could.

It smells good inside. I realize that he's cooking. He's cooking us some dinner. I guess he can do gentleman too. I find myself smiling again, even as I impatiently wipe my damp forehead for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Daniel?" I call out as I close and lock his front door. "I'm here."

I hear his voice float out of the bedroom towards me. "Make yourself comfortable, Jack. There's beer in the fridge. Help yourself. I'll be right there."

Thankfully, there's time to go to the bathroom. I put the wine down on the side table in the entryway and make a quick pit stop in the small bathroom by his front door. 

I wash my hands and hustle myself back out to the living room. He has music playing. Josh Groban, I do believe, singing some unintelligible but beautiful Italian thing. Cooking, my Daniel is, and he's got nice music on. I brought the wine, and I'm nervous as hell. This is feeling like a real date.

I stand at the doors to the balcony, looking out at the evening sky, just starting to be tinged with sunset. When I turn back to the room, I see him. He's been my friend for eight years, and I feel like this is the first time I've ever really seen him.

He comes quietly out of the bedroom, a little hesitant, closing the door behind himself. He stands there and looks at me across the room. I love him so much; my heart is bursting with it. I want to touch him, protect him, talk to him, keep him next to me forever. I need him.

In most of the ways that matter to us, I am a forty-eight year old virgin. Except for our brief encounter in the darkness of that cold tent, I have never been with another man. My nervousness is as acute as ever, but I love him, and it suddenly doesn't matter. I smile at him, looking at him with awe and wonder, like I've never seen him before. I guess I never have. 

His hair is sticking up in attractive little tufts, still damp from his shower. His bleached blue jeans are a size too small, clinging like a second skin, torn at the left knee. He's barefoot. A loose white shirt, unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, hangs around his slim hips. It's made out of such a sheer material, I can see his dark nipples. Behind his glasses, his clear blue eyes shine with good health and good will. 

I stand there with a huge lump in my throat. Slowly, my smile fades. I can feel my face getting red, and I think my lower lip is trembling. I will myself not to cry. "Daniel," I whisper, standing in the middle of his living room like a lost soul. I am simply drowning in him, going down for the last time. 

I cannot play the game. I cannot be cool, or aloof, or controlled or any other damned intelligent thing. "I love you," I blurt. I take a step towards him. Then another.

He smiles at my confession. His eyes are crinkling up in pleasure; his wonderful, expressive eyebrows are moving around his forehead. He walks towards me, too. 

When we meet at the halfway point, he gathers me in his arms and we stand together quietly. I turn my forehead into his neck, breathing in his scent. I can smell his shampoo and his deodorant and his aftershave. I can smell his toothpaste. I can smell his clean skin. My arms snake around his waist and my hands take up a comfortable position over his butt.

He chuckles into my ear. "I love you too, Jack. And don't you dare move your hands," he threatens. His hands are on my back, smoothing up and down over my suede coat. "Oh, Jack," he whispers in my ear, his voice low and needy, his arms tightening around me. "I'm so glad you called. So glad you're here."

I groan, nuzzling his neck, my fingers digging deep into the material of his jeans, scratching at it with my fingernails. He holds me close and kisses my temple, my cheek, his mouth seeking mine. I turn my head and our lips meet in a chaste, warm kiss. I let him take charge, permitting him to do whatever he wants with me. 

What he wants is to kiss me, so he does, and I kiss him back. We explore each other's mouths with our tongues, both of us whimpering deep in our throats. I keep one hand on his backside at all times, but use the other one to run up under his shirt, reveling in the feel of his firm, muscled back. The sharp bones of his shoulder blades are covered with some of the softest skin I have ever felt. I slowly run my hand over his lean ribs, taking my time, amazed that I am now allowed to touch him like this. He is big and male and strong, my equal in every way. His tongue is knowing and skilled, and he seems completely unafraid of "us."

Breaking our kiss, he slides his hands under the lapels of my jacket and pushes it off down over my arms. He takes it and carefully lays it over the arm of the sofa, and then turns back to me. He looks up slightly into my eyes, smiling, and grabs both of my hands.

"I made us some supper," he murmurs. "Come and eat with me, and we can talk. Okay?" He squeezes my hands and leans in to kiss me again. 

"Wait. I brought you wine," I breathe at him. I hustle over to the entryway and snatch up the gift from the table there and then stride back to him, offering it up to him, hoping that I made a good choice.

Daniel slides the bottle out of its bag and appraises it. He gives a low whistle. "Wow. You went all out. Seems to me you called me a cheap date, once upon a time." He looks up at me and smiles, and it's as if the sun has risen in the eastern sky, warming me with its rays.

I just nod at him and smile back. I'm still really nervous, and know I have some things to tell him before things go any farther between us. I take a deep breath. "Dinner smells great. But can we sit down out here for just a minute or two? I have to say some stuff before we eat, 'cause I can't eat till I say it."

"Okay," he agrees. He sets the wine bottle down on the coffee table, grabs my hand, pulls me over to the couch, and sits down. When I stand there and look down at him, he pulls at my hand to get me to sit too.

He's so close, so warm and real, and I am so carried away with the emotion of the moment, I can't speak again. I search my mouth for some spit, and my mind for some words. I open my mouth and close it again a couple of times. 

I turn towards him in my seat and run my hand up and down his forearm. Finally I find my voice. "I've waited so long for this." I pause as I shake my head and look down at his hands, clasped in his lap. I lift my head to meet his eyes. He is very serious, waiting. 

"You need to know something, Daniel," I say quietly. "I don't do casual. Never have. If we do this thing, we do it. Only you for me, and only me for you. I mean it. And if I have anything to say about it, it's gonna be as close to forever as we can make it." I search his face for clues, trying to see if he agrees.

He nods at me, but doesn't say anything, so I plunge on. 

I put my hands in my lap and look down at them, unable to meet his eyes. "And the other thing I gotta tell ya is that-- I'm scared, Daniel. I'm scared of what you. Ah. Might want to do with me," I tell him in a small voice. His hand comes over and he hangs on to one of my wrists, squeezing it. When he doesn't say anything, I decide to continue.

I still can't look at him. I hurry to finish up what I have to say before I lose my nerve. "Listen. I've been in the Air Force for a long time. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck last night. I know what men who love each other. Ah. Do. Um. With each other. Like, in bed." I am dying of embarrassment. My face feels as if it must be flaming pink. 

When I finally look up at him, his lips are pursed together and he's biting his lower lip, making an effort not to grin at me. The smug bastard is laughing again. I sit up straight and stick my nose in the air. "Don't you dare laugh at me, you," I tell him. I shake his arm, like I need to get his attention or something. "I just need you to know that I wouldn't do this for any other guy in the whole universe. Only for you." I drop my voice to a whisper. "And I'm friggin' scared."

He cocks his head at me, and this time he does smile. I see no mocking in his eyes, only love and good humor. Empathy, even.

"Oh, Jack. Oh." He reaches out with both hands and holds mine tightly. He leans forward a bit to bring our faces closer together. "Don't be afraid. I have some experience. It's been a long time, but some things you never forget, you know?" 

He gives me a little knowing grin. His eyes are full of love, and it blows me away that this is all for me. He is so handsome. He is the most maddening, most complicated, most special human being I have ever known. I have dreamed of this moment, and now he's all mine. My fear fades in the face of his love. 

"I would never hurt you, Jack," he assures me. He puts one hand on my cheek. "We'll go as slow or as fast as you need to. And you will have a great time. WE will have a great time. I promise."

I gulp. "Oh, GOD-" I say stupidly. "My GOD." I have to grin myself now. I shake my head.

He chuckles deep in his throat. "So," he finally says. "You wanted to come over. Now here you are. Are you ready to start something brand new? With me?"

"I'm here, Danny," I breathe at him. "I'm as ready as I will ever be."

He slips his arms around my shoulders and draws me close. I hug him back and nuzzle my face up under his jaw line. "Stick with me, Jack," he murmurs into my ear. "Trust me. I'll show you the way. We'll make a way. Together."

I will. I'll stick with him, trust him and happily be shown the way. My Danny loves me. And I love him. 

I've come over to stay.

~~~finis~~~


End file.
